


The Pirate Ship Medusa

by azure_rosa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Dream Sex, Frottage, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-02
Updated: 2010-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-11 23:13:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/483946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azure_rosa/pseuds/azure_rosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt #14. S is captain of a pirate ship, R a recently captured prisoner. Should he treat him like any other prisoner (kill, strand, ransom) or give in to the most intense attraction he's ever known? AU or maybe a vivid dream...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pirate Ship Medusa

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the The Summer Fantasy Fest. Many thanks to countesszero for being an awesome beta and lore for being her awesome self.

I awoke in the dark, my arms still in the air, reaching for Remus. Damn my obnoxious subconscious! That was the fifth dream since I had turned Remus down for drinks after the Order meeting as many nights ago. Each dream employed different scenarios but the theme remained always the same; an immediate, overpowering attraction that we both invariably failed to suppress. Sometimes I was the one chasing Remus through ever-changing, more or less clichéd settings and tropes while others Remus pursued me but regardless we couldn't keep our eyes off each other. Right before we gave in and I was just about to taste the lips I’ve spent the entire dream enraptured by the mere thought of kissing I woke up. It seemed that even in my dreams I could not have what I wanted.

At least this one didn’t have me playing the role of Sherlock Holmes opposite Remus’ Watson who had a pressing fancy to play doctor with me. That was a bit much even for my subconscious. My mind was rather obviously making a point about my relationship, or lack thereof, with Remus. I had been all too aware of my interest even before the dreams but there was never time before for such nonsense. Now I was finally able to engage Remus and I held him at arm’s length even when I _knew_ he was interested in me as well.

All of the obstacles were gone; why not reward myself with something I wanted so very badly? After all, I wanted him longer than I cared to remember. It all came down to consequences in the end, did it not? I knew precisely how vulnerable engaging Remus would make me, thus I shied away out of self-preservation. It mattered not that he wanted me in return. Passion is fleeting; sexual wants, inconsequential. My problem is I could very easily learn to love him. If I gave in and he eventually spurned me I would not know how to bear it. Even though Lily and I had never been lovers I had mourned her no less; how could I possibly withstand the heartbreak of losing Remus once I had made him mine?

Shaking off such oppressive thoughts I hauled my somber arse out of bed and went through my morning routine. Luckily after going to my shop, Subtle Science & Exact Art apothecary, it was much easier to push the haunting dreams to the back of my mind and pretend I was content with my solitary life. Unfortunately it was much harder to convince myself of that when I was alone at home in the evenings. Especially when I went to bed alone and I could no longer hide the truth from myself.

****

It was a beauty of a day; the kind of day sailors the world over pray for. The wind was to our backs strong enough to have _The Medusa_ , my pride and joy, glide through the crystal clear ocean of the Spanish Main with the grace of a noblewoman dancing at a ball. My crew was in high spirits over our most recent capture the previous night and the sun was, for once, not beating down on us fit to cook us all alive.

I was miserable.

I have always prided myself on being a decisive man. Hesitancy in a pirate captain is synonymous with having a death wish. If your enemies don’t get you, your crew will. An ineffective Captain is worse than none at all, any sailor can tell you that, never before has my crew had reason to question my competency until last night.

We had clearly stumbled upon a prize. The ship was not as heavily ornamented as those transporting Nobility but I knew enough about ships to peg it as exactly the kind we should attack. I’ve an uncanny knack for spotting the “good hauls” as my first mate puts it, a talent that stood me in good stead as within three such hauls any new crew member is convinced I’m infallible. The captured ship was of excellent craftsmanship and material but not decorated in a gaudy fashion as most high quality ships are, almost like it was _trying_ to be inconspicuous.

My crew trusted me to act with a level head even in the heat of battle so seeing me lose it at a moment of victory shook them. To be honest it shook me as well. A Pirate Captain can show no weakness to his crew because there is always someone who would be more than happy to take your place. We had captured the ship with minimal damage to ourselves and our prize. The hold was raided and many valuables were pilfered, but it had been the sight of the sole passenger, not the gold and spices, which had caught my eye.

The passenger was no Adonis but something about him knocked the wind out of my sails the instant I saw him. His hair might have once been brown but was clearly bleached by the sun to a tawny color; the slightly wavy locks trailed just past his shoulders and were pulled back in a leather thong. His skin was far tanner than any gentleman’s indicating long periods of time out of doors, likely for his vocation. He seemed a craftsman of some sort judging by his strong, calloused hands which gave the impression of being skilled even while bound. His strong shoulders and well-muscled arms confirmed my suspicion. From his stance he was not a fighter but his shapely legs indicated much time spent standing and kneeling. The beguiling man was clearly not a dandy in disguise like several other such passengers we had captured as of late.

The prisoner’s honey colored eyes caught and locked with mine. He was not cowed though I felt sure he would not bolt. Defiant but not stupid then, I thought. Good. I could see more intelligence in his eyes than one might have expected from a craftsman but surely that was wishful thinking on my part; it had been far too long since I’d had a proper conversation with anyone who could keep up with me. He was clearly no one worth ransoming and thus not worthy of a second thought and yet I could not seem to cease staring at him. I’ve no idea how long I stood there gaping at him like a landed fish but when my first mate’s voice finally broke through my covetousness haze it had the annoyed tone of someone who had been trying to catch my attention for some time.

Getting caught not paying attention to your surroundings by your crew is bad enough. Getting caught practically salivating over a prisoner while your crew is waiting for orders is worse. Luckily I managed to break my eye contact with the prisoner and snap out my orders with enough force and conviction that I was immediately obeyed but I saw the looks on my men’s face in that instant between my return to awareness and my commands.

They were clearly nervous due to my odd behavior. I had never lost awareness of my surroundings like that except in the midst of a tropical fever. I had failed them not at a time of crises when it would make sense for me to be overwhelmed but at the height of our victory when even the greenest of captains can keep their heads. I had to get that desirable man as far from me as I could and quickly, I could ill afford another such slip in front of my crew.

I watched the intriguing prisoner be dragged off to the brig along with the crew of the newly commandeered ship with a curious mix of relief and consternation. I could feel the fog lifting from my mind with the absence of the distracting man and yet I wanted to see him again almost desperately. It was a week to the nearest port so I was stuck with that man and the crew of his ship until then. Certainly I could avoid him for that long while he was thoroughly constrained to my brig. Certainly.

The sensation of being watched is one no leader is unaccustomed. My crew looked to me for orders daily, however the shameful display I made earlier when face to face with a bound captive of all things made them more watchful than usual. What would they do if I was so distracted at a crucial point in a battle? If we survived such a horrible scenario I would likely face a mutiny, rightfully so, as my job was to maintain order and protect my men not gaze at some random man like a moonstruck calf!

Once night fell I found myself sleepless. That captivating captive of mine insisted on wandering through my every thought all day and into my dreams as well. After several restless hours I surrendered in a fit of pique. I decided to go see my prisoner in person since avoiding him just seemed to make my mind obsess all the more on his form and face. I was convinced my memory had flattered him unduly; seeing him again would prove him to be just a mildly attractive man and thus not someone who should haunt my thoughts.

I took my trusty oil lamp and left my small but comfortable cabin in pursuit of my peace of mind. A skeleton crew was keeping an eye on things as usual. My wandering about in the dark would not cause tongues to wag; my crew was quite accustomed to their captain striding through his ship like a ghost in the night. I decided to do a proper patrol of my ship as I usually did when I was restless, but I felt more like I was drawing out my exquisite anticipation of seeing that striking man again rather than doing my duty as captain.

Finally I had stalked through my entire ship except for the brig. I found myself pausing outside of the door with the key in the lock. What would I do if I fell back into the stupor of my first glimpse of the prisoner? He would of course be both bound and in a locked cell so he couldn't escape, but being found come morning staring at him would _not_ be reassuring for my crew. Yet I needed to see him, to prove I had broken his inexplicable hold over me, otherwise I knew he would continue to haunt my thoughts.

With that thought I threw the door to the prison open. The brig was dark since it was a moonless night; my lantern was fighting off the encroaching shadows valiantly but with only marginal success. I found him in the cell at the far end of the brig, sleeping in the darkest of the shadows, looking like he belonged here as much as I. The light from my lantern cast a warm glow upon him, making his hair gleam and his skin seem almost radiant.

I was doomed; if anything he was more beautiful than I remembered and I could not tear my eyes away. I wanted to release him and keep him with me forever, I wanted him as far away from me as humanly possible, I wanted my well ordered mind back, I wanted to never have him leave my mind ever again.

He still was not perfect; I saw his flaws readily despite my sudden infatuation. He was lightly scarred on the arms and the face and despite his young age his hair was already graying at the temples and laugh lines showed around his eyes and mouth. The mild imperfections seemed to highlight his attractive attributes rather than detract from them as one might have expected. I know not how long I stood there staring at him, but suddenly he spoke to me without opening his striking eyes.

“You needn’t fear me, I won’t hurt you.” He would have to possess such a deep and soothing voice wouldn’t he? What I wouldn’t have given to hear that voice speak to me as a lover. The very thought sent a delicious thrill down my spine. As if in response to my illicit thoughts the compelling man opened his amber eyes to stare at me in retaliation.

“Why should I be afraid of you?” I responded, amused that my own prisoner thought so highly of himself.

“I’ve been asking myself that very question,” he replied calmly. “You are afraid of being vulnerable to me. Even when you have all the power you keep me restrained and as far away from you as possible. What could you be afraid of except me harming you somehow?”

“I am not afraid of you!” I scoffed to cover my shock.

“Prove it. Come to me freely as an equal or not at all, I tire of this game.”

“What game?”

“The one you play with my heart.” Seeing my surprised expression he continued, his voice becoming sadly resigned as he spoke, “Did you really think you are the only one afraid of being vulnerable to another? That I am not exactly as defenseless when it comes to you as you are with me? I want you with all that I am, and you spurn me. Yet when you think I do not see you stare at me as if you wish to take me as your own. Choose cruel tempter, but do so quickly, I am not made of stone and neither is my heart.”

I did not expect that. I was so used to people taking from me but not giving in return that it had never occurred to me Remus might have had the same fears and doubts. I was not alone; for the first time in my life I felt free. I hadn’t realised how much doubt was weighing me down until it was gone. I was still concerned, only a fool would not be, but for once I would not be the only one at risk. We both felt the fear and the hope, balanced against each other, the odds clearly against us. Maybe, just maybe, together we could beat those odds.

“And if I chose to come to you?” Was that _really_ my voice? I sounded so young, nervous and hopeful.

“You would be welcomed in my home and life for as long as you wished to stay.”

I unlocked Remus’ cell door, helping him to his feet before releasing him from his bonds. I ran my hands soothingly over his sore wrists in an unspoken apology.

“Equals,” I mused as focused my attention on gently encouraging blood flow to his neglected hands. “I don’t think anyone has ever wanted to be my equal before.”

“Then maybe it is time.” He smiled fondly at me, allowing me to continue my tender massage of his abused flesh. I wondered if he sensed that this was my way of trying to apologise; by soothing the hurt I had inflicted upon him. I hope so; I’ve never been good with apologies.

Our eyes met again. I felt the same attraction as before, yet something had changed; My intense longing for him was tempered by my new-found understanding that it was reciprocated. It was stronger but also gentler now; less demand and more of a longing. I was no longer frightened by the magnitude of my feelings now that I knew they all found their match in Remus.

I did not resist the need to be close to him any longer. Using my hold on his wrists I gently pulled him toward me. Remus didn’t take much prompting. I released his wrists and leaned in slowly to kiss him. The tenderness of the kiss took me by surprise. This was not only a kiss of passion. It contained desire, but also hope ... and a promise.

Our arms slipped around each other in a covetous embrace, pulling us together as tightly as possible as our lips let our souls mingle. My hand slid around to Remus’ lower back as his hands threaded into my hair, holding me in place. He gripped my hair forcefully, pulling just enough to create a pleasant ache and I groaned softly in approval. I retaliated, allowing my hands to roam even lower, fondling Remus’ arse as our tongues battled for dominance. The sound Remus made as I grabbed him ensnared me more than any fisherman’s net; I wanted to hear that delicious sound everyday for the rest of my life. We were both breathing hard; our kisses flowing almost seamlessly into each other as our passions inflamed.

Despite the imminent possibility of being caught, or perhaps because of it, we upped the ante, allowing ourselves to lose control over our hips. Grinding against each other as we kissed felt divine. We were not gentle and going by the sounds we were making we both approved of the roughness. We did not make love. We made war. It was a constant battle for territory, each of us attempting to claim as much of the other as we could. For one glorious moment we belonged completely to each other and then we fell.

****

This time I woke with my arms wrapped around my pillow as if I still held Remus in my arms. I knew I could neither ignore nor deny my feelings anymore. If my dream held any veracity at all I wanted, no I _needed_ to know. It was earlier than truly polite to call on him but I found myself unable to wait any longer. After dressing quickly I Apparated to Remus’ isolated cottage.

It was just past dawn when I knocked rather loudly on his front door. I was surprised how little time it took for him to open his door. He looked like he had been up for a while, clad in pajama bottoms, slippers and a loosely tied bathrobe. It took some effort to keep my gaze trained on his eyes.

“Severus? Is something wrong?” I must have appeared like an escaped lunatic; breathless and disheveled from sleep. Surely beneficial for the ‘emotionless bat’ image I liked to project. To make matters worse my wit seemed to have left me completely. All I could utter was: “I think we should talk.”

Remus looked rather concerned as he ushered me into his cottage. I had been there frequently to deliver his Wolfsbane since he left Hogwarts but I had never actually been inside. It was a homey place from what I could see. Remus seemed to have my decorating sense, walls of bookshelves full to bursting and comfortable but older furnishings in tan, blue and green.

After offering me tea, which I only accepted so I could avoid fiddling like a schoolboy talking to his crush, we sat down on his time worn couch. It took me longer than it should have to realise that Remus had prepared my cup _exactly_ the way I preferred with no direction from me. That realisation helped to soothe my nerves more than the tea itself.

I could not think of anything else to say. I wanted to tell him so much: about my dreams, about the ship, about the things I had finally learned through them and I finally understood _everything_. I was ready for him but I did not know where to begin.

Eventually even Remus’ admirable patience surrendered to his concern over finding me on his door step at dawn demanding an audience only to sit on his old couch like a lump. “Severus, what is it that you want to talk to me about?” He inquired in a soothing tone as if he spoke to a skittish animal.

Finally I found my voice again, and I raised my head to look into his eyes. “I am not afraid of you. Not anymore.”

“Severus?” Remus was clearly puzzled by my non sequitur.

“I made my choice; I chose to come to you.” My voice was steady because I realised that it was true. I was not afraid any longer. Comprehension dawned on Remus’ expressive face.

“You are ready to be with me, to be my equal?” Remus’ eyes and voice barely managed to contain his hope.

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, “If you are still willing to have me.”

Remus took my hands into his. “Always, Severus,” he said, “Always.”


End file.
